I Will Be Here (standing beside you)
by Lady The Warrior
Summary: Back from hell, wasn't just a figure of speech for sons of Sparda. Their story doesn't end here, with them back, new adventures are about to unfold, exposing the mysteries of the past and secrets of their future. (Post-DMC5) ( what started as a series of unrelated one-shots now has a solid plot behind it)
1. Author's Note I

**Hey guys so things have changed, not only I decided to make this story a multichapter with a solid storyline and serious plot, I asked Angel Wolf to beta it for me. So now I had to remove Chapter two and three only to re-upload them after they're edited as well, nothing important has changed so far but the dialogues and descriptions sure have improved. **

**You can read again and enjoy this new and purposeful ride now!**

**Also Stick around for more, **

**Don't forget to review, follow and fave.**

**See you around,**

**Bella **


	2. Back From Hell

**Prologue**

* * *

As much fun as killing demons was, Dante really couldn't hide his contentment when he was greeted by the cool night air of the human world.  
He let out a tired sigh and stretched himself from head to toe. He'd gotten old, not outwardly, but he definitely felt it inside.  
Trish's magical hands could open up those muscle knots in his neck, that's for sure and-. . . Well, a few other things too.

Hell. Not the final frontier. About as far away from where you wanted to be at virtually all times. That place sure lived up to the name too.  
Restless demons, jumping and leaping at them from every corner, he could tolerate it the first few hundred times but one starts to lose patience on attempt number fourteen-million-point-three.

Dante felt trapped at a family reunion, just wasting away listening to his old-ass grandmother discuss the consistency of porridge and yelling 'what!?' every time someone replied.

Well, that didn't mean it was all torture. Dante had his share of 'parties' down there too, both twins did actually.

Whatever leisure time that came their way was used for much more worthy activities, like brotherly taunting, bantering, and deadly battles that never ended.  
Occasionally it was accompanied by a side of bickering or multiple stab wounds, but whoever drew blood first technically won the argument.  
Dante didn't admit it out loud, or perhaps he didn't care that much to do so, but surely the prideful devil hunter was happy that he got his brother back.  
Vergil finally had stopped his quest for power, or at least Dante beat him enough times for the guy to go 'fair enough.' He thought so cause he didn't seem keen to even bring it up.

God, if there was one more day that he had to hear that soul-sucking phrase 'I need more power' Dante might actually just decapitate himself.

Maybe a bullet was the more humane action. Eh, who cares, it wasn't worth the ammo.

Of course, the big-mouthed brother just had to ask Vergil about his fling. Seems like a valid question, considering there was a mini-hothead walkin' around spitting swear words and guzzling beer.  
Kids grow up so fast. Nero's mother must have been a special kind of crazy if she wanted to hook up with _his_ brother, but that earned him a hard stab through his right kidney.

Ah, good ole Verge.

It also didn't mean that Vergil was actually angry about it, Dante could tell from the smirk on his face, and it wasn't one of those weird crooked scoffs.  
Those damned low-dark chuckles Vergil was so used to giving him during each of their previous battles . . . Don't know why he hovered on em' but god they were obnoxious.  
It wasn't like he was any better with his quips. This one was sincere and kind of light-hearted, and it reminded Dante of their childhood.

Well, he could take any damage from brother-dearest if that meant he'd get a front-row seat to see Vergil squirm. Socially-speaking of course.

Dante wouldn't say that aloud, no rational man would, but the principle of moments was to pick your spots wisely. He sure was a sentimental bastard.

At last, though, they were finally out.

Ah, that sky. Polluted. It figures.

Those buildings pinned to the ground way out in the distance proved they were back. From where they were standing, they'd just come from a hollow in a mountain.  
He sure lost track of time back in hell but Dante supposed there must have been a year or two since the Qlipoth incident, the ruins still obvious as Redgrave City was healing slowly.  
From the distance, the devil hunter caught one particular structure. It was half-destroyed and far older than whatever else remained.

It looked like a gorge into the earth, the remains of what had been jutting out of the ground in a huge V. It seemed to have been damaged by a massive earthquake.

Instantly remembering what it was, Dante held onto the opportunity, wanting nothing than to rub it in his twin's face just a bit more.

He let out a scoff and bumped Vergil's shoulder.

"Hey, check it out," The man in red pointed at the crumbling structure right at the center of the town.

It was a reminder of much darker days when a certain someone wanted so badly to prove he was stronger than daddy.  
Sparda possessed tremendous power, and so to claim it, Vergil opened portal to hell. The portal-to-end-all-portals came rife with all the nightmares you ever dream of.  
Was it below or above? Dante remembered vividly that he ascended, and yet everyone believes hell is beneath the world.

Humans are stupid. And sexy. But mostly stupid. Of the smart ones, there was like one or two, maybe two-and-a-half.

In the depths of the hell, Vergil sought what he craved beyond mortal imagination, taking the lives of thousands in that process.

Temen-ni-gru.

"There's the other tower you made me kick your ass on. Remember that?" Dante said.

Vergil's brow furrowed, and he gave his sword a twirl, narrowing his eyes forward as he paid no attention to his brother, "I remember your sword sticking out of your chest."

Dante rested his new namesake devil sword on his shoulder, shrugging uncaringly, "Yeah, and then you fell off a cliff and got enslaved. That was some biblical shit, man."

Vergil groaned to himself, bemused, "Yamato didn't split your demonic half from your humanity either. Maybe you were just too thick."

"Oh yeah, I worked out more back then." Dante countered, "Though, did ya know that that old thing's actually become a tourist attraction now?"

Now that was surprising, Vergil asking, "_Really?_"

"_Really_, people come here from all over the world. All they do is take a few pictures with that thing . . . Even though it, like, killed a thousand people." Sarcasm drenched that last part.

Vergil shrugged in response, "Humans often tend to appreciate the machines that destroy them."

"'Suppose that's why they elected Trump."

Dante's eyes traveled to the thick gray clouds momentarily, the beginning of a promising storm, threatening to break the calmness of the night.

The hunter shook, replying wryly, "Heh . . . d'ya think they'd elect you?"

Vergil contemplated that for a second, frowning like he was in deep thought, "Hmm, a devil's power would be wasted trying to govern these fools."

"Well, that explains why hell is a shithole."

Silence hung pleasantly above them as the twins watched the thick clouds that blocked out the full red moon, it's radiant glow smothered.  
Memories of that stormy night rushed back into Dante's head. He wondered if Vergil thought about it too. It only felt like yesterday but they both knew it had been far longer than that.

Twenty years. Time flies.

"Why the sudden interest in politics, Dante?" Vergil broke the silence first, turning his gaze at his brother.

Dante's attention fluttered whether he liked it or not, though he did manage to pay some of it to the dark slayer.

"Well, ya got me brother," The red devil opened his arms in a dramatic gesture of surrender as he sneered, "I also just kinda wanted you to see what's changed."

He stared at his brother's icy blue eyes, it was like looking in a mirror, only . . . not. The style was really the only thing that differentiated them, and time had destroyed some of their innate similarities.  
That was part of the reason Dante grew a beard anyway, he didn't want to look like his brother, whose murderous capacities were not a thing to be envied.  
The smile plastered on his face didn't fade though, it grew wider into the shape of a grin that Vergil would surely have enjoyed punching off his face with no remorse.

"But, maybe if ya hadn't done it, you woulda never learned, huh?" The younger brother said.

For a moment, Vergil remained silent, eyes glowing with a mischievous glint Dante had thought that was long gone from him.

Vergil told him, "And you would have never taken anything other than half-measures. One must commit fully to succeed."

Letting a smirk twist up the corner of his mouth, he started to walk past Dante who was now laughing at him.

"So ya admit that I won," Dante put a hand on his hip as he called after his brother smugly, "Just say it, man, it's the truth! Dante's the winner!"

Oh, he missed that . . . his younger brother following him around just to prove something pointless, or worse only to annoy the hell out of him. Not.

Vergil walked on and on, searching for civilization, and the devil hunter kept up after him, poking and prodding him with sarcastic comments.  
He could find no peace, that red-trench-coat-wearing buffoon continuing to hassle him over and over again, forgetting that he even had to guide Vergil.

Finally the dark slayer stopped, looking over his shoulder, "I still score one ahead of you."

Dante stopped dead in his tracks, looking legitimately stunned for a moment. Realizing how calmly Vergil continued walking away from him, he followed him down the ledge.

"Hey, that's not true, I beat your ass back in hell." But the eldest never stopped to listen.

He didn't even so much as glance in his direction.

"Hey! Verge!" The man yelled, jumping down the ledge, the silver-haired man muttering to himself ". . . Sweet Black Sabbath, this guy's gonna be the death of me."

* * *

_A/N: Hey everybody so this chapter is both revised and proofread now!_

_Thanks to the awesome Angel Wolf, this has improved a lot! I may want to remove chapter two and chapter three as well only to re-upload them after they're edited as well, stick around for more._

_**Beta Reader Note: Hey there, so I decided to reconcile my disappointment of DMC 5's story by helping someone write a fic set after DMC 5. I figured it would also serve me well to make up for my sin of disliking the game's story, I know I know, I apologize, there's something wrong with me. But hey, it's a free country, so I'm resolved to helping anyone write any story and help make it the best it possibly can be, regardless of personal bias! So, there we go, maybe this way DMC 5 will start to grow on me.**_


	3. Home Sweet Home!

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Located on a barren stretch of road called Dawson Street, 'Devil May Cry' was originally a two-story old house, with two small bedrooms atop the second floor and a small basement down below.  
It barely had any space, cramped up with junk and weapons and more junk. The bottom floor had creaky boards with ancient wood, smelling of pleasant pine.  
Unfortunately, that mixed with another disgusting odor, as if there were dead bodies rotting inside the building walls. Soon, the stench filled Vergil's nostrils as he walked up the stone stairs.

_Judas Priest, that shit stunk._

The place, however, was oddly familiar, as though Vergil had been in there not too long ago. He couldn't remember though, the 'when' and the 'how' eluded his inquisitive mind.

Dante was already ahead of him, inhaling deeply into the musty atmosphere, home-sweet-home! and spreading his arms in a comically exaggerated fashion.

Vergil tried to ignore his brother's unnecessary theatrical behavior.

"Home-sweet-home!" He even said it out loud, dear Christ. Dante exclaimed it to the ceiling, the water stains forming a face he dubbed 'Harold.'

Harold was a friendly little guy, especially on those long, lonely nights . . .

Considering the building's condition, it seemed it had been abandoned for years now. Well, it made perfect sense for the devil hunter to be here.

Vergil scrunched up his nose, his frown deepened as he skimmed the interior of the old place, which had devolved into little more than a shed. It was dirty, dusty and lacked proper insulation.  
At some point, there were holes in the walls. Besides, what is that gooey substance sticking to the ceiling sweet merciful god- Vergil wondered about this, but then he decided he didn't need to know.

Dante was always lazy, but jeez his habits had gotten bad.

"No wonder. You _would_ call this rat cage a home." Vergil said, referring to his surroundings disdainfully.

"Shut it." Dante said apathetically, doing his best at giving Vergil a death-glare, "You don't live here, so quit yappin'. I'm doin' you a favor, letting ya crash at my place and all—"

"I would gladly choose a hostel over this hole in the ground." Vergil meant it.

There was no way to take that either, he couldn't stand even a night in this . . . This complete squalor.  
He even considered crawling back to Hell at this point, perhaps there was a nice piece of brimstone he could use as a pillow- you know what, here was alright.

"Yeah like Hell was such a palace for your majesty." The man in red replied.

Then he tried the light switch.

No matter how many times he pushed the miniature lever up or down, nothing would happen,"—'The hell . . . why isn't the electricity working?"

Looking up at the ceiling, he went on a passive-aggressive rant, "Dammit, I gave them one friggin' job: take care of the bills while I'm gone. I even had Morrison try and explain to em'."

Just when he was about to turn and face Vergil again, the slop off the ceiling came loose and fell. Time froze as it landed right on Dante's face, sliding through his nostrils and through his sinuses.

Dante stayed in place as he grasped the substance and tore it off of himself.  
Looking down in his hand, he saw it was just sludge, corroded off from the AC unit.

"Well, brilliant."

"Doesn't that sti-" Vergil was interrupted.

"Don't." Dante held up his index finger with his other, cleanish hand, "Just don't."

Raising an amused brow, Vergil suppressed a laugh and let out a dry scoff, rolling his eyes. Yeah, you would do that wouldn't you, ya uptight pointy-haired prick.

"Your secret is safe with me." The elder sibling responded, elder by only a few seconds chronologically, older by light years mentally.

Shrugging coolly, Vergil continued to ignore the way Dante threw the shit in the trash, and then used an unpaid bill to blow his nose. Typical.

"Go check out the roof, will ya?" The embattled twin announced, still busy finding something to clean his hands with, "Maybe the water's still running, I'm in dire need of a shower,"

"I'm not your keeper, Dante," Vergil retorted, "It is _your_ _job _to uphold your home, so do so yourself."

"Yeah?" Finally getting the remains off his fingers, Dante said, "Well I ain't lettin' you use the hot water then."

Damn.

"Well, I'll just purchase food for myself then." Vergil replied.

"Oh-ho, with what money, Mr. Fat Bags?"

"Dunce."

"Shithead."

Brothers in arms tear each other's throats out. Heartwarming.

Exasperated, Dante walked up to the makeshift kitchen, turning on the tap, when, "Aw fuck — The water too! Jesus Christ, I need to stop trusting those two women."

"Perhaps you should have placed your faith in another, Dante."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Jeez, can a man get a break?"

"**_DANTE!_**" He heard a scream and the front door jingle.

Of course not.

A long, high-pitched, yet familiar shrill answered Dante's apparently cosmic question, leaning on the dingy desk.  
The red devil put his hands on his head. Well, if hell was that easy to survive for a year with no food or water while fighting his brother, surely adding this to the mix would make other devils weep.  
Sorrow was his own yard, kept smacked with dope so that reality wouldn't come ruining his little fantasy. Of course, what good was the fantasy when it just didn't satisfy you anymore?

What does that even mean?

"Not again . . ." He murmured as the blonde girl with long curly hair appeared at the door, ignoring Vergil's presence entirely. She marched to the counter, screaming . . . Again.

Joy.

"**_YOU'RE BACK!_**"

The legendary demon slayer just had to; he just had to give himself a long and painful facepalm to the wall. And his fingers still smelt.  
Drawing in a long and very frustrated sigh, he shared a look with the confused Vergil and then glanced back at the girl in front of her, tiredly.

"Lady told me you were gone!" The girl clapped her hand on her chest in a dramatic fashion, "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"Yeah, yeah Patty," Waving nonchalantly, Dante leaned further onto the counter; he wished he would've never come back considering this whole situation, "Do you need anything?"

"Well Duh! You missed out on a lot mister," Patty put her hands on her hip, scolding.

"I bet . . ." Then a thought occurred to him, "Say, where is Lady?"

"Why do you ask?" She replied.

"Oh no reason, I just wanted to . . . Pay it forward." He said, frowning deeply to himself.

Oh he was a sinister bastard when he wanted to be.

"Oh, uh, well, I dunno, I haven't seen her much since about a year ago. Saw Trish the other day though."

Not really listening, Dante put his hand under his chin, looking at anywhere but her, "That's nice, uh-huh."

"You missed my prom, the graduation day and my 18th birthday. Ya also missed my 19th, my 20th, even my 21st birthday Dante! You promised you'd take me out when I turned 18, asshole!"

Okay, no.

Dante was dead-sure that whatever he'd say, he had NEVER promised such a thing.

"Ya lost me at the 'you' part." He said, assuredly bored, looking to Vergil, who still stood behind Patty.

Patty looked between them, noticing the older brother for the first time since walking in.

Dante took the opportunity to communicate with Vergil. His eyes were practically pleading with him, and he started moving his hands and making faces.  
Vergil really didn't understand what half of it meant, it was psycho-babbling-gibberish to him. Dante tried dutifully and desperately to at least telepathically ask his brother to help him out.

Brother's have that right? Twin's especially got some kind of ESP-thing going on at least.

But no.

Patty turned back to the Devil in red and said, "Whaddya mean!? I clearly remember _'you'_ saying that!"

Dante ceased immediately, looking at her almost like he was interested, "Hmm? Ah, doesn't ring a bell, kid."

"I'm not a kid anymore!" She yelled at him.

Vergil furrowed back, not sure what Dante meant by all the exaggerated hand gestures and stupid faces he was making.  
Stepping further out, but as soon as Dante made a gesture with his finger across his throat, the dark slayer instantly knew what he meant. Or thought he did.  
A ghost of a smirk crossed over his lips, and he pulled out Yamato, unsheathing the mighty steel and placing the edge of the long sharp blade on the girl's right shoulder.

Then in the most threatening way possible, brainiac rumbled,

"_**Get away from him, child . . .**_"

Patty's eyes widened and she yelped instantly. Without a word, her eyes rolled back inside her skull and she fainted. Falling to the ground, Vergil didn't even catch her, looking down pleased.

"Damn it Vergil," Looking over the desk and the counter, Dante cursed aloud, "I didn't say to scare the kid to death!"

"You're welcome." Vergil replied, deadpan.

"I am most certainly not!" Dante yelled back, mocking Vergil's rigid speech pattern.

Twirling Yamato, Vergil brought it back to rest within it's scabbard, staring at the girl dully, "Pardon me, I thought you wanted me to behead her." He replied wryly.

"Oh good god, I brought home the Punisher." Dante shook his head, holding it in his hand. Looking back up, he raised a brow, then he looked back down at Patty, cringing at what she'd just said.

He repeated again, "Can a man get a _god damn break?_"

Scratching the back of his head, the devil hunter let a dirty grimace spread over his face.

"Well, that woulda been illegal anyway." He shrugged, throwing his hands to the air, "Whatever man, I give up. Hotel it is."

Strolling round the corner of the kitchen counter, he went for the door, "I need some fresh air after that. God damn."

"What?" Vergil said, turning but failing to sound low and serious enough, "I did my best to decode your stupid faces, what more do you want?"

"Is that a real question?" Dante replied without turning, and as he opened the door, he muttered, "After all that time we spent 'bonding' in hell, maybe ya haven't changed."

* * *

_A/N: especial thanks to the amazing Wolf Angel, you rock man! _

_Please don't forget to review!_


	4. Lost

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Being a corrupt demon for most of his adult life, Vergil didn't think he would desire a cold shower this much. Oh how things change.

The cold water engulfed him, and instantly he felt relieved, his muscles slowly loosening up against the cool drops. How many years has it been?  
Vergil knew that demons did not need human basics, cleanliness and sustenance, but he was only half after all. Ignoring his humanity wasn't going to work anymore.  
He was healing, healing many wounds dealt to him by death. His already-loose grip on the whole world faltered before the silly grudge he held against his own kin.

Dante.

The cool rains from the shower head felt particularly therapeutic on his back and shoulders. Letting the water soothe him, he stood with his arms crossed, holding himself and his eyes closed.  
Of all the sins he carried with him from hell, the worst ones still clung to him. You couldn't wash away some shame. What was he supposed to do now? He focused on clearing his mind.  
He couldn't go on this way, not as he was now. The ugly side of him . . . The callous, frigid side, he'd grown to hate it. It had driven him nowhere, spinning out in hell.

Redemption was a long road, one he didn't even know if he wanted to walk. Ahead of him stood many, many obstacles, perhaps he was just too demanding.

Family, was a bittersweet word on his tongue. Dante was the only one he had and Dante had his own family as well, those two demon huntresses and that headstrong kid, Nero.

His own boy . . . He'd never even held him in his arms.

Was he motivated enough to connect with them? Was he afraid? Did he even care?

Bonding with Dante was only natural, the bickering and those snarky remarks were the only souvenir of his lost childhood.  
Fragments of memories he still carried within his soul replayed themselves over and over, and even though it was hidden for so long, it came out with Dante around.  
It made him feel a little better, a little how he was before.

But, then again, even this carried a heavy weight on his shoulders when no one was around.

A part of him was feeling something other than anger for once inside, was if it was contentment, he was damned already.  
Guilt flooded his heart, and he felt that he knew he was lost, and he was sinking again. If only he could open himself up.  
Every passing moment with his twin now he was just a shallow phantom of his former self and it pained him more than any scars tattooed on his skin.

He was incapable of being a human.

Vergil was a stranger in this world, it belonged to Dante. He was all alone in these streets, walking around empty while Dante acted like he owed them, and he did in a sense.  
He was these people's 'legendary' dark knight now, like their father, a savior in his own right. Vergil? A terrorist. His twin had saved their lives on more than one occasion.  
Dante belonged to this place but Vergil could only look out from his room. It was the only way he knew of living, to cut and to slash through pain and misery, lighting a candle in his room.

Did anyone love him? He'd never know.

Power was greater than love, and he made no secret of it. Even though it had never seemed to be enough.

And now, he was supposed to have a family . . . now he was supposed to be a father.

It seemed like a distasteful joke at first, but it wasn't.

There was evidence of that kid belonging to him. First and foremost, Yamato had been absorbed into his peculiar arm.  
It was the truth, and he knew just from that sour disposition that the boy could be no one else's son.  
The revelation actually let Vergil reflect back on himself. What action of his had led to the boy's birth?

So many consequences, so little time. Did it even matter?

Vergil was often philosophical, drowning in undiagnosed mental disorders so severe they would make even Dante's head burst.

It would be disingenuous to say that Vergil didn't care much about Nero, it was only that the Cambion couldn't feel anything other than a small consolation towards the younger man.  
He didn't know if it was because he didn't know how to be a father or if he just didn't want to be one. It wasn't as if he had planned to have a kid in the first place.  
This, however, Vergil could tell went back years ago, all the way to when he was nothing but a lost teenager . . . The more things change . . . Here he was, again feeling the same way.  
In a world filled with darkness and sorrow, he was always running away, always looking behind his back without even a roof over his head. He was nothing but a stray dog.

So powerless to protect himself, let alone others.

Under the shower, Vergil's face tightened, troubled by these memories.

Being dead for so long could make your mind foggy, disorient you as if you were still there, trapped. It took him a considerable effort to actually remember the crimson eyes of that woman.  
Twenty-five years ago . . . He couldn't remember how it all lead to that dark crossroad, in the middle of nowhere, but he was sure of one thing, and it wasn't thanks to any kind of puny thing as 'love'.

What happened between him and that woman lead to this boy, now a twenty-four year-old man. Where does the time go?

Nowhere, truly. That boy though, he was something curious. He possessed an exceptional power indeed, something Vergil had never witnessed in this life before.

Not even Mundus himself possessed a power so curious as the one that bore out from this young man. He wondered if it surpassed even the great Sparda's power as well.  
The boy's grandfather was certainly no slouch after so long, none had ever really become so legendary. Dante probably still wasn't there yet.  
And even if he was, the slayer could attract a lot of undesirable attention from the underworld, demons down there were still hungry enough to follow the advice of the galactically stupid.

An involuntary shiver jolted down the half-devil's spine. His son or not, Vergil couldn't believe that kid could be just a quarter demon.  
That woman all those years ago, before his encounter with Arkham, lured him down a dark path, and it was then he realized that she had been the one who'd killed his soul.  
Humans didn't possess knowledge such as devil's did, especially his father. She sought him for more than just company; powers over demons.

And when she was done, without a word, she just disappeared into thin air, gone . . . As if she were nothing but a nightmare dressed as a pleasant dream.

Without a name, if there wasn't the young man that existed now, Vergil would have considered that encounter with the woman only as a simple nightmare. Long forgotten.

In that cold shower so lonely, he was that same old lost boy again. There was too much to handle in the world.

He wasn't going to be a father for Nero now, he doubted he was even wanted in that role anyway, but he was curious enough to talk to him next time, wherever that boy had gone.

He owed this much to the kid, a conversation.

Dante actually missed the coziness this crowded and polluted city brought, despite familiarity breeding contempt. He grew up here.  
He had all sort of days in this place, many moments wondrous and, as much as he tried to come off as that care-free guy, he enjoyed being back home.  
Perhaps it would have been even better if he were able to sleep in his own bed after two years of living apart and lying down on filth-laden rock faces.

Of hell, filled with blood, gore, saliva, and god knows what else, the monsters and demons built for him a memorable hatred. But this hotel room bed wasn't that bad at all.

He didn't know how many hours he'd been dozing off though, devils didn't really need a lot of time to rest, but his humanity was certainly getting too old now for this shit.

So he snuggled further under the covers as he felt the first hint of the early morning's cold around his face.  
Not that it bothered him much but it was a habit he borrowed from his childhood. Vergil needed to get back in touch with that part of his life.

It'd make him happier, he was certain.

Also, because he was feeling a little lazy at the moment, he didn't really want to leave the warm bed.

"Piss off, sun." He mumbled.

And it did, clouds soon overtook the light, and though it did not swallow the sun completely, it's brightness dimmed considerably.

Simply staring at the ceiling, his mind reverted to his twin brother in the next room.

He knew that Vergil had lost all his drive, the desires and intentions he had towards scrambling the world just to become a powerful god or whatever he called it.  
Still though, he was sure that Vergil's point of view to this whole city, the people he cared about and the world, in general, was just so much different with his.  
I mean, that's the really the only thing he could be sure of. And honestly, Dante didn't want to change it. Who was he to even try doing that?

Twin brother or not, the only thing that mattered now was that he was alive and the two pieces of Sparda were finally falling together.

Staying in the underworld for two years had shown Dante how indestructible they could be together and honestly, he'd grown comfortable with it.  
He too enjoyed the power their union came with it and he knew that Vergil could feel it too. No one stood a chance against them, not even Sparda himself.

Well, okay, maybe not dad.

Demons would try to crawl out of their nest, but once they faced the incredibly demonic duo, they would regret that choice.

The world would be a peaceful mess as always and the halfling twins could enjoy the chaos presented to them on a daily basis, together, even with differing points of views.

The only thing Dante was skeptical about was how his brother was planning his path of redemption or was he going to even walk down it at all.

Nah, why did he even bother himself with these thoughts anyway?

It wasn't in Dante's nature to think very far ahead, let alone perceive the potentiality of an unforeseeable future, all he cared about now was this soft mattress and–

"_FREEZE_!"

The sound of a commotion came from somewhere in the lobby of the hotel. It jolted him upright.

He took a confused look to his room's door, and when a crashing sound came, he pushed the covers away, standing only in his leather jeans.  
Grasping Ebony and Ivory, he fitted them in their holsters and threw his coat over his shoulder as he walked outside.  
Vergil's door was open and a quick look inside confirmed that he wasn't there. Brilliant. He wondered where the blue wonder could've flashed off to.

"Stand down!" He heard a voice scream, "Drop the weapon and put your hands behind your head!"

The formal tone of an official authority coming from downstairs caused a deep frown to form on Dante's face. What was going on?

"Get out of my way, cur."

The cold rage of a gloomy Vergil came from the same direction. That confirmed Dante's suspicions as he took off fast to the lobby.  
When he arrived, he saw the manager cowered in a corner behind the counter while said-brother was standing, Yamato drawn, in front of an armed police officer.

The man had blocked his way out of the hotel entrance.

"I'm only going to say this one more time; sir, drop your weapon or I _will_ shoot you."

Looking at Vergil, the man took one step ahead, circling Yamato in his hand, Dante knew he just had to do something before it all went to shit.

"Whoa-whoa, hey—" Jumping over the railing of the second floor to the lobby, he landed right in front of his brother, creating a much-needed space between the half-demon and the human cop.

"We don't want things to get messy, okay?" Taking a quick glance at Vergil whose brow had furrowed, he looked back at the young police officer.

God, he was just a nervous kid with a gun in his hands. What would have happened to him if he showed up a little late?

Raising his hand, Dante took a small step towards the boy, "Look-look, calm down officer. What's goin' on here?"

Not knowing what was actually happening, the young cop glanced between the brothers but didn't lower his gun.

"Don't move, either one of you! That man behind you was going to hurt a child using an unverified weapon. Suspect must be apprehended."

"You fool. Do you really think I just attack an innocent child?" The older twin let out this excessively condescending laugh, it grated every little nerve in Dante's body.

Yamato shined and whipped through the air, and then a loud shot rang through his ears.

Dante's head cocked backward, and his vision blurred in and out of focus. He was suddenly looking at the ceiling.

It was a dizzying moment and Dante shook his head. There was a pain in his left hand, and, taking a look at the palm, he saw exactly what had just happened.  
Yup, there was a big, messy and bloody hole through his hand, and the bullet had passed through it to his forehead.  
He pulled the bullet out easily, though it didn't hurt any less, and threw it at the ground, the spent casing rolling in front of the officer's feet.

There was a corroded sigh, and Dante groaned, "Didn't I just tell you that I didn't want a mess?"

The slayer ripped the weapon out of the man's hands and bashed it across his face, the butt of the handle smacking the cop unconscious.

Dante squeezed the release and the clip unloaded, hitting the floor. He slid back the slide on top and the bullet loaded into the chamber flew out onto the ground.

"You- Y-You're not human!" The front desk clerk stuttered.

Dante opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by his own brother's loud respond, "This is your '_hero,_' you little worm, grovel before him or go home."

The hotel manager entered the lobby and screamed.

"What the hell's going on here? I want all of you out of my lobby, right now!"

Giving a quick jerk to his head, Dante turned around, Vergil staring back at him with his usual stoic expression, "Happy now?" Asked Dante rhetorically

Stepping out, it immediately began pouring buckets of rain. Vergil walked more urgently as Dante worked on catching up to him, eventually doing so.

Standing in his way, Dante yelled, "Just what the hell is wrong with you?"

"There was a demon spying on us," Vergil gave him a cold shoulder as he took a deep breath in, "I wonder how you didn't notice the smell."

Interesting, Dante thought, he didn't sense anything, considering his sharp senses. But whatever this thing was, it was good at hiding, then again how could Vergil sense him?  
Was it because he'd spent more time in hell? Maybe, that was always a possibility. What kinda cockamamie 'spider-sense' shit would staying in hell even give you?

Whatever, it was too damned ridiculous to even think about.

Stretching his arms, Dante looked up at the dusky sky as he shrugged a bit, "I dunno man, just don't threaten a cop, okay?"

"Hmph," scoffing, Vergil uttered blandly, "Is that your extraordinary way of hunting down demons then, Dante?"

His brother raised an eyebrow, a smirk now forming.

"Why you gotta be like this, huh? You're _always_ starting shit."

In response Vergil remained silent, looking Dante in the face, before turning around and snorting, "Trouble seems to follow you, I only do what I must."

"Yeah, yeah, you jerk. Let's just go find somethin' to eat then, huh?"

"Do your job, Dante." Vergil didn't stop, now walking past the people who ran in the streets to get away from the pouring rain into a gloomy and empty alley.  
Vergil seemed unaffected by their surroundings, "You're a devil hunter, aren't you? Find this demon and kill it before it's too late."

"Why don't we talk about that then?" Dante said, roughly grabbing Vergil by his shoulder, "Like civilized adults for once. Just communicate with me."

"They're everywhere," Vergil's rime-laced eyes scanned the rooftops as if he was about to let Dante in on a secret, "I can hear them howling at us in the rain."

Dante knew something was wrong, either Vergil was playing or he was getting senile, the latter was unlikely.

He still couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary, yet he didn't comment on it, simply nodding at his brother.

"Well, that's a dramatic way to say ya don't wanna stay in the rain. Whatever. You can tell me about it over breakfast, m'kay?"

* * *

_A/N: Thanks everybody for all the faves and follows, but don't be shy tell me what you think _

_Thanks again to the extraordinary Angel Wolf for helping out tidying this mess lol _


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